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Oh my! Having seen XH158 (I think that's her name) at an airshow it is very impressive. It's nice to see the RAF's only vaguely active participation in the Falklands War remembered!

Yeah. But remember, in TTL the Vulcan will be what the B-52 is to OTL. So even if she is withdrawn from the Nuclear role, she will retain a role in conventional bombing missions for a few more years, about 2040 will see the last mission.

Below is a Scan of the drawing of the Vulcan Variant I was talking about. Now, if we can make these pods detachable..... I also left the text below the drawing to give you a small insight in how the book is written.

“This is the BBC Overseas and Forces Service, and here is the 9 o'clock news, Charles Linquest reading. In France and Belgium, Allied forces continue to inflict heavy losses on the enemy while retreating in good order. In Belgium, Ghent is under siege again, but a an announcement by the Belgian Ministry of Defence states that the French and Belgian units to the north of the city are holding fast. Ostende is still under artillery fire, but the enemy has made no further probes in this area. Brussels is now officially an open city and the last Belgian units to the north have retreated south and joined ranks with the British Expeditionary Force to form a new line further south. In France, Soviet and German units are driving towards Metz and are under constant attack by the French Air Force and Army. South of Verdun, heavy tank battles are raging as the enemy tries to break through the defences there while the Maginot line is holding fast. On the high seas, the Royal Navy continues to inflict a heavy toll on the enemy fleets. Yesterday the Battlecruiser Hood, fresh from Scapa Flow, intercepted another attempted German Merchant raider as he tried to slip past the blockade. In the Atlantic, Imperial convoys along the coast of Africa and towards Canada are still under heavy assault, but according to a recent Admiralty statement the attacks are not as heavy as has been feared before the war. In the Rome Italy has protested against the Alliance between the British Empire and the Kingdom of Albania, calling it a blatant attempt to encircle Italy and prepare for British colonial dominance in the central Mediterranean Sea. In London, Foreign Secretary Eden stated that it was the right of sovereign Nations to choose their own friends. In Tirana King Zog of Albania formally declared War on the Axis powers, saying that it was the sacred duty of all freedom loving people to fight against tyranny. In other news: According to recent counts, Canada now houses close to a million American Refugees. Prime Minister Mackenzie King states that Canada continues to welcome all those that cross her borders with peaceful intentions and announced plans to start recruiting a Canadian Division from the refugees, which is due to be seconded to the British Army as the 9th Infantry Division. In Tokyo Japane”

With a snort at the arrogance of the Canadian Imperialists, Junior Colonel Marker turned off the radio set in the car. The Fascists and the Stalinists were giving the British and their lapdogs in western Europe a very hard time, and not even the best propaganda out of London, which was admittedly well done, could conceal the fact. Sooner or later the oppressed masses in the United Kingdom would rise and demand a peace, and then the Day of reckoning for the so-called British Empire would come. And the mission Marker and the four other men in the car were currently on was means to further that goal. They had crossed the Mexican border over a side road four days ago and had made good progress towards Mexico City. Avoiding the patrols of the Mexican Army had proven to be ridiculously easy, despite what they said, they weren't taking guarding the border very serious, not with the ongoing rural insurrection. The car was bound to reach the outskirts of Mexico City, and like in all other reactionary states, the best units and men were concentrated around the Capital, which would make infiltrating it without being seen very hard. But then again, it was not as if they were here in an illegal mission, Washington simply preferred for it to stay out of public view. Equipped with the best false papers the Secretariat for Foreign Intelligence could produce and armed with T-1911 pistols, the men had what they needed to carry out their orders.

Upon reaching the city limits of Mexico City, they approached a checkpoint by the Mexican Army. The road was blocked by a red/white striped boom barrier, and guarded by several dirty looking Mexican soldiers carrying old Springfields that had been sold to Mexico before the Revolution. Over a disused Gas station, the Mexican flag was waving. The Soldiers obviously were not all that pleased with their duty and did not really do a good job at inspecting the cars that were going past, most of them were just waved through. Much more attention was directed at the various girls on bicycles and on foot, but that was to be expected, and Marker was glad for one more distraction. They passed the superficial inspection with ease, and moved into the myriad of colonial roads, houses and drivers that was Mexico City. Traffic slowed down the closer they got to their destination. Which made sense, given that it was in the very centre of the city. About a quarter mile from their destination, the car stopped at an intersection, and Marker took the opportunity to once more review their orders. They were to approach the person and convince him and his entourage vacate Mexico and come to the UAPR. The day was hot, incredibly hot, even for an Officer used to the climate of Washington City. “How far, Comrade Sounder?” “A few dozen yards, Comrade Colonel.” “Good. Everyone, keep our mission in mind. We are guests in his house, and we will behave as such. If we are asked to relinquish our weapons, we will do so. We will extend every possible courtesy, and we will treat him with respect, even if he does not accept our proposal.” “Yes, Comrade Colonel.” came from the other men in the car. The car stopped in front of the large house. Situated at the outer edge of a medium-sized square, the house was more befitting to a capitalist landowner, but considering the situation the occupant was in, such eccentricities could be forgiven. When the car stopped in front of the house and the four men stepped out, one of them staying behind to guard the car, they did not see the lorry across the road where several other men were waiting. Instead, they entered through the main door into a small square. In it, a woman was sitting at a small table, reading some papers before she noticed the Americans entering. “Who are you?” she asked with clear mistrust in her voice. “Good morning. We are here to see Comrade Trotsky” “Who are you?” she asked again, her voice still steely. “We are emissaries from the American Government and he have a proposition for him.” She nodded and said then: “Follow me, Comrades.” They walked behind her towards the staircase in the back. When they walked up the stairs, Marker looked at the pictures on the walls. They showed the stations of Trotsky's life, from the one where Lenin was talking to the Red Guards in Petrograd, to the one taken when he had just fled to Turkey. One was particularly intriguing, as it showed Trotsky shaking hands with Stalin, a picture that was most certainly banned in the Soviet Union. On the second floor, the walls were painted in earthen colours, with the occasional painting hanging there, most interestingly the painting based on the famous Lenin photograph included, though Trotsky was missing from it.

The woman soon stopped in front of a door and turned to the Americans. “I will inform Comrade Trotsky of your arrival.” She knocked and then entered without waiting for a reply. After a minute or so, she stuck her head out of the door ant motioned for the Americans to come in. They filed into the room, forming a line at the door. Opposite them, behind a desk, Leon Trotsky was sitting and writing his latest book on a typewriter. He finished the line he had been working on and then looked at the Americans with interest in his eyes. “What can I do for you, Comrades?” Marker nodded slightly and said: “Comrade Trotsky, I am Junior Colonel Marker from the American Peoples Army. I am here to discuss a proposal with you.” “And what might that be, Comrade Colonel?” “Comrade Browder is a great admirer of your writings, and we are here to deliver an official invitation for you and your group to join the UAPR.” Trotsky leaned back in his chair. “And why should I accept this? Do not misunderstand me Comrades, I am flattered by the invitation, but I have roots here, my wife has roots here, so why should we leave? I can publish my books just as well from here.” Marker nodded and said: “True, Comrade, but consider this, the Soviet Union has committed the final betrayal of Communism, and no one knows what that madman in the Kremlin will do next. You would be much safer in Washington, or wherever in the UAPR you would choose to live.” Before Trotsky could answer, and just as if to underscore Marker's words, gunfire erupted on the street outside the house. The bark of the pistol of the remaining American was soon drowned out by the sharp bang of bolt-action rifles and the louder, saw-like noise of a machine gun. “It seems as if I have no other choice, Comrades. Lead on.” Trotsky said dryly before running out of the room. The woman, that was actually his wife, Natalia Sedova, led them to a small staircase that was hidden behind a tapestry. Before descending it, Marker thought of the man in front of the house. He shrugged his shoulders and ran after the others. The man was most likely dead, and they did not have a moment to loose. He placed the tapestry in front of the entrance and barred the small door with a piece of wood that had been placed there for this purpose. Just as he began to move down the stairs, he could hear the attackers break into the floor. They yelled exitedly in a foreign language, that Marker would later identify as Russian and broke into each room. Meanwhile Trotsky, his wife and the surviving Americans reached the bottom of the staircase, where it led into a small hallway. At the end of the hallway was a garage that contained a car that was just large enough to take them all. “Comrade Marker, can one of your men drive? I haven't driven in many years, I am afraid.” Trotsky said. Marker just nodded and climbed into the drivers seat, after the old Russian handed him the keys and the other two Americans opened the oak doors. “What about the other people in your group?” he asked when the car moved past the doors onto the street. “I am afraid we can't do much for them, da? When they are lucky they will arrive back when the Russians are gone. They have been briefed on what to do in such a situation and will try to make their way north or blend in here in Mexico.” He paused and looked back at the house, just in time to see flames leaking out of the windows on the second floor. “And what are we going to do now?” he asked Marker. “The original plan was to go to the Airfield. An American Airtravel Combine DC-3 is waiting there for us. We should be there in about half an hour if all goes well.” Again, Marker had barely stopped talking when bullets started to fly. This time they came from behind them and struck the car just below the edge of the roof. “Comrade Colonel, there is a truck following us!” The lorry that had been standing at the edge of the square was racing to catch up to them. Two men were leaning over the roof of the front cabin and fired their rifles at the accelerating car that contained their prey.

On the back a machine gun had been mounted, but the angle prevented it from bearing on the fleeing Americans and Russian exiles. Turning around and pushing Trotsky and his wife to the floor of the car, the two Americans in the back returned fire without hitting anything. The engine roared and the car accelerated even more, leaving the lorry struggling to keep up. Suddenly a second car appeared, this one too filled with what had to be NKVD agents. These were armed more adequately for the chase, namely with Tomphson Machine guns. Marker felt the bullets flying past his head, and also felt the pain as the bullet struck him in the right shoulder. The car swerved to the side, but somehow he managed to keep it under control after that. Ignoring theb pain, he managed to drive on, while his two men in the back kept banging away at the Russians pursuing them. The raced through the city ignoring the population wherever possible, and running over at least three cats and dogs. When they left the outskirts of the city and raced down the road towards the Airfield, the lorry stayed behind, eventually disappearing from sight alltogether. The Soviets in the car stopped shooting and contended themselves with watching, as the party with Trotsky and his wife who had been hit in the leg, exited the car and walked up the stairs of the aircraft whose engines were already turning. The plane roared down the runway, not bothering with getting clearence, leaving the bullet riddled car behind. Their prey had escaped, and now they faced the uneviable task of reporting failure to their superiours.

[Notes: A plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. If I addressed this before, please tell me so. As you know, I lost part of my notes a while back, and unfortunately the bit that dealt with Trotsky was included in that. I also know its a bit of a stretch having BBC broadcast as far as Mexico City, but with a transmitter in Belize or so... ]

Trotsky in the UAPR? British BBC broadcasts? High speed car chases?
THis AAR is pure brilliance, although you misspelled Japan......

Founder of the Lord Strange School of Thought

If I'm speaking in Gold, it means I'm speaking in my capacity as a Demi-Mod.
Any other colour, it's your choice whether to pay attention or not

For the cities which were formerly great have most of them become insignificant; and such as are at present powerful, were weak in the olden time. I shall therefore discourse equally of both, convinced that human happiness never continues long in one stay.

Herodotus of Halicarnassus

"Why are so many rowers atheists? Because anyone who has done a 2K knows that there is no god."

Lord Strange Glad you liked it. The misspelled Japan is supposed to be "Japanese" interrupted in mid word.

EDIT:

Le Jones It's probably naive, but I see the BBC as a bit of a predecessor to the Public Law Broadcasters that are the mainstay of German media, and as something essentially British, like the RAF and the Spitfire or Trafalgar Day.

Ah, wonderful! Nothing better, than coming back from an Internetless 2-week vacation and finding all those great updates waiting. Keep up the good work mate. I find your latest updates to be as engrossing as the first and that is saying something.

PS: I voted for you in the AARland Choice AwAARds 2009. Best of luck at the competition.

"If Jean Luc Picard went back in time and then brought Genghis Khan to 1932 and the Enterprise exploded over the United States this is literally exactly what would happen.", FNLN

"I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do. ", HAL
"If knowledge can create problems, it is not through ignorance that we can solve them.", Isaac Asimov

Ah, wonderful! Nothing better, than coming back from an Internetless 2-week vacation and finding all those great updates waiting. Keep up the good work mate. I find your latest updates to be as engrossing as the first and that is saying something.

PS: I voted for you in the AARland Choice AwAARds 2009. Best of luck at the competition.

[Notes: A plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. If I addressed this before, please tell me so. As you know, I lost part of my notes a while back, and unfortunately the bit that dealt with Trotsky was included in that. I also know its a bit of a stretch having BBC broadcast as far as Mexico City, but with a transmitter in Belize or so... ]

If they were listening on a portable short wave radio, no problem. Relay station in Antigua should reach Mexico, posibly even the Canadian or Ascension island stations as well.